I got a compliment tonight. D.J. told me I was the best chaser. That's pretty nice to hear, considering that I spent most of the night trying to get out of chasing him. Beaten down by a week of hard work, no sleep and sticky heat, I didn't want to do anything but sit and cool off.
A five-year-old generally knows a sucker when he sees one. He shouted at me from the front window as soon as I drove up, and the first thing he said was, "Do you want to come out in the back yard and chase me?" I had to choose my answer carefully. "In a little while" usually works. For a little while.
To tell the truth, I don't think I'm a very good chaser at all. I'm too slow and I don't have the lateral mobility I once had. (In fact, I never did.) I think the thing that makes me a good chaser is that I'm willing to do it. I let myself get talked into it again tonight, for about fifteen minutes. That seemed to satisfy him.
I even caught him a few times. I didn't want to overdo it, because I couldn't quite figure out what I was supposed to do with him when I did catch him. Let him go so I could chase him again, I guess. That seemed to satisfy him.